


Watch The World Go By

by Saddaughter16



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Attempted Murder, Blow Jobs, Brock is 13 years older than Bucky, Bucky Barnes/Brock Rumlow - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, Gaslighting, Happy Ending, M/M, Medical Procedures, Murder, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Rimming, Sam Wilson/Riley Wilson, Shrunkyclunks, Stalking, Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson/Riley Wilson, Steve is 6 years older than Bucky, Threesome - M/M/M, Verbal Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29078574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saddaughter16/pseuds/Saddaughter16
Summary: In 1943, Steve Rogers breaks the hearts of men and women around the world when he announces his soulbond to Peggy Carter.In 2011, a soulbond weary Bucky Barnes meets his soulmate. Despite his initial apprehension, he's determined to make this work and be the best soulmate.But in 2014, something old and evil grows in the shadows of both of their lives and they find themselves on a collision course that will change their paths forever.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 16
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big time thank you to SoftObsidian74 for beta-ing for me once again! Everything you touch is a million times better. 
> 
> So, a couple of first chapter obligatory things. I have a lot of this story written, but it is not complete yet. What I don't have written is outlined, so there is a plan. That being said, I'm working on two other stories for a couple of upcoming bangs so my time will be split between those two stories and this one. 
> 
> There are some heavy themes in the story. Feel free to ask for details. I have the same username over on Twitter. If I didn't tag something that needs it, let me know.
> 
> I am NOT an artist. So please enjoy my attempts at mood-boarding.

2014

“Just squeeze and hold there.” 

The foam collapses in his grip and he holds it. He keeps his arm as still as possible and opts to look at his white knuckles instead of where the nurse is inserting the first of the two needles into his arm. 

“It’s a lot like dialysis, right?” he asks. His body feels like a live wire, extra energy snapping along his nerves. “When I looked it up, that’s what your website said.”

“It is,” the nurse says. He flinches a bit at the small pinch of the first needle going in, closes his eyes, and exhales through his nose. “You’ve got great veins, so this will be quick. The line I’m placing in now is the arterial line and it is going to take the blood from your body to be filtered.”

One second and another small pinch later, the band around his bicep is released. “And that line was the venous line, returning your blood to your body.”

“Thanks,” he says, “for explaining. I’m a little nervous.”

“It’s normal to be nervous,” the nurse says, taping the tubes down to his arm before tapping his fist. “You can let go now.”

“Oh, sorry.” He releases the foam ball and hands it over to the nurse, who stuffs it into the pocket of his lab coat. 

“Thank you for being so accommodating. I know this is a little backward, but with Doctor Allen running behind, this will get you on your way faster,” he says with a kind smile. “She should be in soon and then it’s just the last round of informed consent forms and we can get started.”

Last round of informed consent forms. As if the five consent forms he’s already filled out weren’t enough, Bucky thinks bitterly. But, it’s not the nurses’ fault. Not like he made this process the nightmare it is. 

“Thanks. That sounds great,” he says, leaning back into the chair. One more round, he thinks. Just one more. He picks his messenger bag up off the floor. He’s not sure what his nerves are going to let him do while he’s here, so he’s brought an array of options. He’s got three books, a notepad, plenty of audiobooks and music loaded on his phone and, even a fucking deck of cards. 

Nothing looks enticing. Frustrated, he shoves it all back into his bag and drops it back to the floor, and pulls out his phone. 

_41 New Messages_

“Fuck.” This is his third new number. He’s _so_ ready for this to be over with. 

And then he never wants to think about soulbonding again.

* * *

1996

Mommy and daddy are screaming.

Bucky hears them all the way from down the hall and they even have their door shut. It scares him but he wants to go to his room and that means that he has to tiptoe toward the screaming to get to his room. So he can hide. He picks up his cars and his action figures. 

Daddy hates it when his toys are out.

He goes as fast as he can without looking up and makes it into his room and closes the door as quietly as possible.

Daddy hates it when the doors get slammed too. 

He pushes his ear to the door to listen for his parents, but their door never opens and they don’t stop yelling. 

He crawls up onto his bed and pushes his hands against his ears as hard as he can but it’s not enough so he pulls his blankets up over him and smushes his pillow back over his ears. 

A small Captain America looks back at him from his pillowcase cover. Bucky traces the tiny shield. Maybe a superhero could fix his parents so that they’re happy. 

He still can’t understand his mommy and daddy, but they’re getting louder and louder and louder. Then he hears a loud sound, like when he gets spanked and then there’s no yelling at all.

Bucky’s hand drops away from his ear. Maybe they’re done and he can go out and play again.

Then daddy talks. Not yelling. But not his happy voice, “Hit me again, bitch, and I’ll kill you.” 

The door opens and he hears daddy’s angry footsteps. He lays real still and holds his breath and when he doesn’t stop, Bucky’s glad. Mommy is crying in her room and he looks at Captain America again. 

“There’s no superheroes,” he whispers. Captain America was the only one and he’s gone. 

It will just have to be him. He’ll have to fix them. 

* * *

2011

Bucky meets Brock when he’s nineteen. 

It’s July and he’s at work, sweating through his t-shirt, dabbing at his face every two seconds, desperately trying not to drip sweat into customers' orders when his boss brings his brother through for a tour. _Right_ in the middle of lunch rush. Asshole. 

His boss’ brother, Brock, at least, seems to know that he’s in the way. He gives Bucky an exasperated look and a wink before he tells his brother they should get the hell out the way before the customers tank his TripAdvisor rating. Which is _hilarious_ since they’re literally in the middle of nowhere. Who’s rating them anyway? The rich parents of the kids being dropped off at the very expensive private university in town? Sure. 

When Bucky’s shift ends, Brock is sitting out at the bar waiting for him. He feels disgusting and wants to go home to rinse off under a cold shower, but he sits anyway when Brock offers him the barstool next to him. Jim fills him up a Sprite from the gun and the two of them drink and chat about, well, a lot of things. 

There’s an instant attraction between them. Brock is good looking. Older, but Bucky doesn’t mind that at all. He’s also not interested in scrutinizing why that is. And Bucky knows what he looks like. Even at the end of his shift and sweaty, he’s not unattractive and he enjoys flirting. And, he likes where this is going.

So when the dinner crowd starts filling up the place and Brock offers him a ride back to his apartment, he takes him up on it even though he knows that’s not where they’re going to end up. There’s only one motel in town. It's a shitty, run-down little thing, outdated for at least twenty years, but it was either that or risking Bucky’s roommates. And he was not, under any circumstances, going to go have sex in his employer’s home. Brock may only be here for the week, but Bucky would have to look his boss in the eye for the rest of his employment. _However_ long that ends up being.

He makes Brock pay for the room because his brother doesn’t pay Bucky shit at the restaurant. And sure, Bucky might want to get fucked, but he’s not desperate enough to lose seventy-five dollars for it. Brock tells him that he’s cute for thinking seventy-five dollars is a lot and leads him to their room with a steady hand on his lower back that drifts lower and lower with every step. They’re barely through the door and Brock’s got Bucky’s shirt hiked up under his armpits, his tongue in Bucky’s mouth, and one hand fisting his hair when he feels ‘it’. 

‘It’, the zing of what could only be a soulbond, is so intense it knocks the breath right out of him. He and Brock pull away from each other at the same time and when he manages a look, the shock he’s feeling is mirrored perfectly on Brock’s face. 

He wasn’t expecting this. But more than that, he’s never _wanted_ this. Which is stupid. As if you get a choice. He thought he’d be able to fight it, but everything he’d heard is right. There’s no fighting this. Can you fight an infection through sheer will? Can you fight a rising fever just by wishing it away? Stupid. Of course he can’t. 

You spend enough time with a person whose soul compatible with you, you develop a bond. That’s the rules. You make out and grind up against a soul compatible person, it goes a lot faster. Want doesn’t come into it. And for most people, it’s not a problem. Most people want and are actively looking for their soulmate. 

But, Bucky likes being on his own. It’s why he moved out as soon as he could. Sure, his roommates are terrible, but it’s not the same as being home witnessing what happens when biology makes a mistake and tethers two people together who oscillate between vitriolic _hate_ and reluctant acceptance. And now biology has come for him. Every moment that passes, looking into Brock’s eyes, he feels the soulbond strengthen within him. 

He realizes that Brock hasn’t said anything, but he’s looking at Bucky like he’s precious. Like Bucky is the answer to his every wish. Bucky feels it too, no matter how much he wants to push the feeling away. For all that it’s invasive and uninvited, he can’t deny its expanding presence. And at the edge of that discomfort, lies the big truth, the real secret. His fear that he’s just like his parents. Defective.

But god, he’s never seen his parents look at each other the way Brock is looking at him now. So he leans into the feeling and he thinks, maybe this will be fine. 

* * *

2014

Steve ditches the bike as soon as he can. It’s far too conspicuous to keep driving it around DC. If the fight in the elevator didn’t cause outside attention then the commotion on the bridge surely must have. So, the bike has to go. He speeds through Georgetown and parks it in a fairly high traffic neighborhood that will hopefully keep whatever STRIKE team deployed to bring him in busy combing through residences. 

_It’s nothing personal._

Fuck Brock Rumlow. How he ever trusted that prick for two years is beyond him. _Not personal._ What’s not personal about having his own men caging him in. They weren’t even subtle. Ten STRIKE members all just happened to enter into the same elevator at roughly the same time? Every one of them tense and ready to attack? 

_Not personal._ Fuck Brock and fuck SHIELD.

North of where he leaves the bike, he ducks through a maze of backstreets until he finds himself at his target. He can’t do _anything_ in this town without changing out of his uniform. Captain America is meant to be a visible figure and even though he’s technically in his stealth suit, it’s not as if he’s unnoticeable. The door across from him leads into a laundromat with an outdated security system that even _he_ can disable. Tony will be so proud when he finds out. 

After the cameras are taken care of, he breaks the lock on the door with the ‘Management Only’ sign and slides inside. In the corner is a bin full of clothing, forgotten or left on purpose where he finds a hoodie and a pair of sweats that’ll pull down over his boots. He looks over his body for any injuries, but most of the bruises from the fight and fall have faded, even if he can still feel them. He’s sure the STRIKE team can’t say the same. Oh well. He _did_ give them a warning. Once he’s changed, his stealth suit gets shoved into a battered gym bag he finds in the corner of the office and five minutes later he’s out of the Rinse and Repeat, hood up and head down. He makes it to Dumbarton Park, lovingly renamed Barton's park or Clint’s park, where he sits and allows himself a moment to regroup. 

He can’t go to Sam and Riley’s, SHIELD will have eyes on their place by now. Luckily, Sam is already out of the area, helping Steve on a different mission and Riley is visiting family in Montana. He pulls his phone out, his personal phone from Tony, not the bugged one he threw into the bed of a truck traveling opposite of him on 66. His finger hovers over Tony’s image when it vibrates with an incoming message from an unknown number.

17:52: location?

 _Nat,_ he thinks with relief. 

17:52: Clint’s park

17:53: omw 

Twenty minutes later Nat pulls up in a small pickup that he barely fits into. “We need to go to the hospital. Fury gave me a thumb drive and I need to…” he trails off. Hanging from the rearview mirror is the thumb drive he’d hidden in the vending machine. He looks over at her. “How? Nat, what the hell is going on?” 

* * *

1943

“Are you sure about this?” Steve asks, walking around the bed. Their clothes are _everywhere._ What a mess, but well worth it. They don’t often cross paths back in London and they wanted to make the most of their time before Steve and his team are sent back to Italy. 

“Are _you_ sure about this?” Peggy asks from the center of the bed. She’s beautiful. Satiated, he hopes, and content to watch him hurry around finding his clothes. How she got out of this morning’s briefing, he doesn’t know.

“It’s risky. What if either of us actually, you know, finds a soulmate?” He picks his pants up off the floor and gives them a shake.

“I think we’re smart enough to figure out how to navigate that situation if it comes to it,” Peggy tells him, slipping out of bed. She bends over and picks his shirt up off the floor and holds it out to him. “Think about it though, Steve. No more reporters constantly asking. No more men and women throwing themselves at you just to see what happens.”

He considers it for a moment while he slips his shirt on. What would a day be like without a new rotation of soulbond hopefuls following him around? He doesn’t have to stretch his imagination too far. It wasn’t so long, after all, since the possibility of soulbonding with him would send everyone running. “Sounds blissful for the both of us. You could work without having men and women throwing themselves at you too, Peggy.”

“Well, I did say this was beneficial for us both, didn’t I?” She smiles at him and fixes the buttons of his shirt. “It’s not like we’re not compatible in _other_ ways. And we have fun together. It won’t even be difficult to fake it.”

He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her close. “ _Faking_. Peggy, you wound me.”

Her eyelashes flutter when she rolls her eyes at him. “Men _never_ think that their partner is faking. Besides, _that’s_ not the kind of faking I was talking about.”

He leans down and kisses her. “Good to know.”

“But, practice makes perfect, Captain Rogers.”

“Let’s do it then.”

She bites her lip and sighs, “You are out of time, unfortunately.” 

“Not _that_ , Agent Carter,” he says with a laugh. He releases her to find his socks and shoes. He’s going to be running across town at this point. “You’re right. About the other thing. Let’s do it _._ Then we can _practice_ all we want.” 

* * *

2012

“Ugly fucking thing, isn’t it?” Fury says from the driver’s seat. 

“It’s something.” Steve looks across the bridge at the Triskelion. Fury’s right though. It _is_ fucking ugly. “I guess I should appear amazed if I meet the Secretary?”

“ _If_. I’m sure you’ll meet him within the week. And, he does like to be complimented.” Fury flashes his ID to the guard and continues down into the parking garage. “When you meet him, tell him you read that he was consulted on the design. He’ll really like that.”

“I’ll make sure to do that,” he says with a smirk. Fury throws the car in park and Steve winces when he slams the door shut too hard, again. “Sorry.” 

“I would have thought that you have had enough time to get used to your superstrength by now.” Fury closes his door softly to make the point.

“I have but car doors were heavier before. _Cars_ in general were heavier before. Do you know that there’s this little car that I actually can pick up like a dumbbell? Incredible.”

“Right,” Fury says, leaning across the top of the car, then pushes off and strides toward the elevator bay.

Awkward. Good going, Rogers. “Anything I should compliment you on?”

“Now, if I told you, it wouldn’t really be genuine would it?”

“Of course,” he says with a laugh. “I really like your coat.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Fury says. “I’ll see if they come in your size. We can match.”

Fury swipes his badge at the elevator, “Floor twenty-seven.” 

“Floor twenty-seven, Human Resources,” a voice comes from the ceiling.

“Stark?” he asks Fury.

“Is not the only genius who can make a talking elevator, as it turns out,” Fury says sarcastically. 

The elevator stops, informing them they’ve arrived at Human Resources.

“Hold,” Fury says.

“Holding, Director Fury.”

“That’s handy.”

“It’s good to be the boss.” Fury looks over Steve’s shoulder, “Agent Rumlow!”

“Good morning, Sir,” the man says to Fury, before turning to Steve, “Good morning, Captain.”

“Captain Rogers,” Fury says, nodding to Rumlow, “this is Agent Rumlow from STRIKE Team One. He’ll be getting you acquainted with all of the twenty-first-century bureaucracy you can handle. See you around.” Fury steps back to the center of the elevator. “Floor sixty-seven.”

The doors slide shut and a clipboard thumps him in the chest. “Let’s get this started, Cap.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full speed ahead for the M/M/M tag. If you're looking to skip the smut portion it is at the very end of the chapter.
> 
> Thanks again to SoftObsidian74 for the beta work, especially since she had to make sure I didn't have too many body parts flying around during the sex scene on top of all the other corrections she regularly makes for me!

  
  
  


2014

He clears the messages without looking through them. They’re always the same.

_Tell me where you are._

_Please, I just want to talk._

Those, of course, are the nicer ones. They never stay nice. And by forty-one messages, there is nothing that Bucky wants to read. 

“I am so sorry for how late I’m running, Mr. Barnes,” Doctor Allen says, rushing through the door. She takes a seat and pulls a folder full of paperwork from under her arm. “Let’s get these documents out of the way and then we can proceed.”

“That sounds great. I’m really looking forward to this.” His phone vibrates in his hand. 

“Are you sure there’s no one you would like to have here with you?”

There’s no one in Bucky’s life that knows about this. He hasn’t even been able to tell his parents or siblings about the divorce. He left school the year before. He never got a job once they moved to D.C.. He knows that it’s recommended to have someone with you for the procedure, but he’s truly on his own.

“No, there’s no one,” he tells her. “I’ll be fine on my own.” 

Doctor Allen nods and flips the folder open next to him, leafing through his paperwork. “Alright, the first document is your ‘Dissolution of Soulbond’ form.” 

His phone vibrates again. He looks down and catches the message preview on his lock screen.

_I’m not going to let you fucking do this. You don’t get to fucking leave me._

“Perfect.”

* * *

1998

“This is great, George,” Mom whispers. Bucky is sitting fidgeting in his pajamas on the carpet of their hallway next to his dad. He doesn’t want to hear them fight, but he’s not allowed into his room where he can hide under his covers because the man outside might look through the windows and see him. _Even the babies_ had to come out of their crib and they’re being good and quiet and Daddy hasn’t even had to hush them like he’s had to hush Bucky. 

“Mommy,” he whispers again, fidgeting, “I gotta go potty.” 

The man pounds on the door again. “George,” Mommy says, ignoring him, “It’s only an eviction notice. I’m going to answer -” 

“ _Mommy,_ ” he pleads again.

“Bucky.” She looks at him. Finally, she’ll let him go to the bathroom. There’s no windows in there and he can be fast. “Stop being a baby and hold it until your father and I are done talking.” 

She looks back over to Daddy. He’s _not_ a baby. He’s six and a big brother and he’s started school, but, he’s gotta _go_ so bad. And he’s not supposed to cry, Daddy says so. Crying is also for babies, but he feels his eyes burning and he doesn’t want to be in trouble.

“What are we going to do, George? Hiding from the eviction notice isn’t going to stop us from being evicted.” She moves to her knees and puts baby Nicky in Bucky’s lap. “Be a big boy and hold your brother.”

Bucky squirms. Now he’s gotta go even more. Daddy thunks his head on the wall and baby Nicole fusses, which makes Nicky fuss in his arms. Mommy says it’s because they’re twins but Bucky thinks it’s just because Nicole is loud and she always wakes Nicky. “Shhh, no fussing, Nicky.”

“Daddy?” he whispers.

“You don’t have to whisper anymore, Bucky. Your _Mommy_ has decided for all of us what’s best. Like she always does.”

He doesn’t know what that means but Daddy sounds angry.

“I have to go potty bad, Daddy,” he says, bouncing a bit. Nicky seems to like that. 

“Didn’t _Mommy_ tell you to hold it? You want me to hold both babies, then?” Bucky shakes his head. No, holding both babies would be _hard_. But, maybe he can just put Nicky on the floor. He looks down at the green carpet and thinks. He got yelled at for eating his cracker after it fell on the floor. It wasn’t even an old cracker, but Mommy had yelled that it was dirty and disgusting and Bucky can’t put his baby brother on the disgusting, dirty floor.

“Real fucking nice! We have two babies. What are we supposed to do?” Mommy screams. He hears the man’s voice, but he’s not screaming so Bucky can’t understand what he’s saying.

The door slams shut and Nicky startles in his arms. “It’s ok,” he whispers to his brother, “doors slamming scare me too.”

“This is great, George,” Mommy says.

“How long?” Daddy asks.

“One week before he files in court. So, we have a little time to move out.”

“Move?” Bucky asks. They have to move? He doesn’t want to leave. What about school and his friends? “What about my toys?”

“Bucky stop it! We have a lot more to think about than your stupid toys,” Daddy says and Bucky can’t help it any longer. The first sob breaks loose and then he can’t stop. In his arms, Nicky gives a great wail and then Nicole joins in.

“Ah, Bucky! Now, look what you’ve done,” Mommy says taking a step forward before recoiling back from him. He feels bad, but he _tried_ to tell them. _He did_. “Did you wet the floor? That was really bad, Bucky.”

“Whatever, let him do what he wants,” Daddy says. “It’s not like it’s our house anyway.”

* * *

2011

Brock helps him move out of his apartment when his lease ends. It doesn’t take long. He hadn’t accumulated much over his nineteen years of life. He doesn’t like the idea of putting down roots. He doesn’t like becoming attached. 

“This it, babe?” Brock asks, looking at the back of his truck. 

“You said to ditch my mattresses, so yeah, this is me.” He spreads his arms out wide, joking to dispel some of the patheticness of his reality. 

“I have a bed, with an actual bed frame and everything,” Brock says, wrapping him up in his arms. “So we really don’t need to stack your mattresses anywhere in the house.”

“Wow. A bed frame. I’m going to be a real grown-up,” he says, kissing Brock on the cheek before breaking free and climbing into the passenger seat.

“I can’t wait to get you home and moved into the house,” Brock tells him, climbing into the driver’s seat.

The house. Brock’s house, nearly two thousand miles away, where he’s going to be living. He’s seen photos. It’s a _really_ nice house. Nicer than any of the houses he grew up in by a long shot. And he owns it. So there’s no landlord to decide suddenly that they want to rent to their family instead of strangers or that they’ve sold to a new landlord, but they want to do renovations _so you’ll have to be out by the end of the month, you understand_. So, that’s nice. 

But Bucky is nervous, because at that house, two thousand miles away, are Brock’s two kids. Well, not _right_ now. But every other weekend and two weeks in the summer, they’ll be there. At the house. The house Bucky is moving into. Maybe they’ll hate him. God, what _if_ they hate him. Will Brock blame him? 

God, get a grip. It’ll be alright, he tells himself. He won’t even meet the kids for another two weeks and he can research how to not fuck up blending a family before then. Internet, so helpful. _And_ , he was good with his brother and sister. Brock’s kids are little. He’ll be fine with them too. He can make this work. 

“You ready to get the fuck out of this town?” Brock asks, shifting the truck into drive.

“Only for my entire life,” he responds with a smile. 

“I remember feeling the same way when I left home. And you’ll like Cali. I know you will.”

They switch off driving even though Bucky doesn’t technically have a license. He knows _how_ to drive, but he never saw the point. At sixteen, he didn’t have the money for driving classes, and when he turned eighteen and moved out, his apartment was close enough to work that he could walk. He hadn’t cared much about it before, but he’s feeling a little embarrassed by it now. 

“It’s fine,” Brock assures him. “We’ll fix that. I’m sure there’s more to fix too.”

 _Fix_? Bucky’s not sure what exactly they need to fix. It’s only a license. But, Brock is older, smart, and confident. And considering who raised Bucky, it’s not all that surprising that he might not even _see_ what there is to fix. So he nods his head and smiles. He can feel Brock’s sincerity through their bond. He really does want to help Bucky be his best.

Two days later, they arrive in Bucky’s new neighborhood. The houses are large and a lot nicer than Bucky had thought from just seeing pictures. The neighborhood reminds Bucky of the newer track homes being built back home. Everything matches, everything well manicured and clean. 

“Everyone’s got a fence?” he asks.

Brock laughs. “Yeah, everyone’s got a fence around their yard here.”

“No one has porches?”

“Wraparounds? Rich people do.”

“Do you have a yard?” He doesn’t remember seeing one in the photo.

“Small one. Julia and Parker have a nice sized yard though. They live more on the outskirts of the suburbs.”

“Ok,” he says, suddenly overwhelmed.

“Hey,” Brock says, taking Bucky’s hand in his and squeezing. “It’s a lot to get used to. You’re going from a small town where _everyone_ knows each other to a large city. Be gentle with yourself while you adjust.”

 _Oh,_ maybe biology got it right. That’s exactly what he needed to hear.

* * *

It only takes fifteen minutes to move Bucky’s belongings into the house. Without his mattresses, his sole possessions come down to his clothing, his toiletries, and some books. He was saving up from his job at the kitchen to get a laptop so he could watch movies and maybe apply to the community college the town over. 

Brock, on the other hand, has accumulated all the stuff that you would think a thirty-one year old person with one marriage and two children under his belt would have. Bucky has a hard time thinking of any of it as his. He knows he’s here for good, but it feels more like he’s staying in a fancy Airbnb than his own home. Plus, it doesn’t exactly help that Brock has a hard time transitioning from saying my house, my television, my electricity to ‘our’. Bucky’s certain it’s not on purpose, well mostly certain at first. But Brock seems to stop trying altogether a month after Bucky moves in.

Brock’s first visitation with the boys after Bucky moves in takes place at a hotel close to their mom’s house. The boys, to this point, have been completely in the dark about Bucky. Brock thinks it would be best if he and Julia do it together, while Bucky stays at the house. Bucky and Brock, in total fucking agreement for once. He couldn’t imagine the boys’ first introduction to their father’s soulmate being the same day they learned of his existence. They’re little, but god, let them have some time to adjust and figure out how they feel. Bucky happily stays at home, relishing his time alone. He loves Brock, but he never dated much in high school and preferred keeping to himself after graduation, so he is looking _forward_ to having a weekend that is just him, Brock’s California King, big screen TV, laptop, and bathtub. 

The boys, Brock tells him later, don’t have meltdowns over their dad getting married. Bucky has their mom Julia and her partner Parker to thank blazing that trail for him. Of course, the boys are only three and four and they live with their mom full time. They probably won’t completely understand until they meet Bucky and wonder why he never leaves. 

The week after, Bucky meets Julia and Parker for the first time. Julia is beautiful and funny and not at all the monster that Bucky had been secretly envisioning, but Bucky really hits it off with Parker. By the end of the night, Bucky has their phone number safely saved away in his phone and a promise to call if Bucky ever needs to talk.

“Being a step-parent can be difficult,” Parker tells him, “and lonely. The boys are great, but sometimes you need someone to talk things out with and you might need someone more objective than Brock.” It’s a close call, but Bucky manages to make it home and lock himself in the bathroom before he cries from the relief of someone being understanding.

The week after that, he meets the boys for the first time. He’s nervous and he overthinks _everything._ Should he and Brock hold hands? Are they going to want a hug? Should he give them a hug if they ask? It’s all for nothing...the worrying. They meet Julia and Parker at Chuck-E-Cheese and the boys barely make it through introductions before he’s being dragged past a ball pit and through a network of tunnels. He can only guess that this is where the children drag their prey before murdering them for more tokens. Eventually, he makes it out alive after telling the boys that he’s _sure_ their dad has money for tokens. 

“I want to congratulate you on being the only one of us who is young enough to follow the children through those germ tubes and not need immediate medical assistance,” Julia says, lifting her glass to him. “You’re invited to all future Chuck-E-Cheese play dates.” He dies a little inside, but it seems he’s passed whatever test the boys had for him. By the end of dinner and approximately fifty hours at the prize counter, he’s rewarded with hugs from both boys and one sticker they bought him with their leftover tickets.

Bucky settles into his new life. Soon after meeting the boys, he lands a job at a nearby biotech company. He works as an assistant for the Quality Assurance Supervisor and does a lot of filing and scanning during the day. But when he’s caught up, he learns about the accreditations and regulations the company has to be in compliance with and finds that he doesn’t mind digging for the small details. 

Brock doesn’t tell him much about his work, which is fine. He pretty much told Bucky that what he does would be above Bucky’s understanding anyway. But even if it weren’t, most of it is classified. Bucky, on the other hand, likes to talk about his day over dinner and he can talk about his work as long as he doesn’t mention specific clients. After moving and being unemployed for the last few months, it feels good. He’s good at what he’s doing, he’s made work friends, and his pay is double what he was making at the kitchen. If the ‘stuff’ at home belongs to Brock, then at least Bucky can feel like he’s making some kind of contribution to their supposedly shared life. Brock listens, nods and hums in all the right places, but the sense of boredom and humoring comes through the bond strong. If Brock picks up on Bucky’s hurt feelings or growing sense of loneliness, he doesn’t say anything. 

Visitation with the boys continues to be better than Bucky had expected. Then again, he’s still new and exciting as far as they’re concerned. Bucky doesn’t ask Brock why he doesn’t share custody with Julia half the time. He doesn’t really know anything about custody arrangements or how they work. Maybe this is normal. Maybe it’s because the boys are so little. Maybe he’ll ask Parker at some point. They would know for sure. There are probably a million reasons and thoughts that go into decisions like this. Far beyond what Bucky could think of. 

Eventually though, he does ask about Julia. He tried not to pry while he was still living in Ohio. He wants to be respectful about a subject that’s bound to be delicate. But after he meets Julia, Parker, and the boys, he feels like he should know the basics.

Brock and Julia were not soulmates, Brock tells him over dinner. Which of course, Bucky knows. You _can_ have more than one soulmate. Statistically, it is actually likely that you do have more than one soulmate. That’s not a problem of course, because after you’ve soulbonded with one soulmate, you would never know if you walked past another soul compatible individual. If Brock and Julia had been soulmates when they’d met, he may still have taken Bucky to that motel, but they never would have bonded. 

So, Brock and Julia _weren’t_ soulmates. But, like a lot of people, they started getting eager to start a family once they hit their late-twenties. 

“We were getting the itch, you know? To settle down and start a family. All of our friends had found their soulmates by then and we were feeling left behind.” Brock stabs another piece of steak with his fork. “And Julia and I had known each other for years by that point. Had slept together. We may not have been madly in love, but we were comfortable with each other. We’d both tried those match-making sites, but got nothing. What a waste.” 

Soulmates are completely over-romanticized, at least in Bucky’s opinion. He could go on for hours. Hallmark comes out with _at least_ two new soulmate movies a year. This year, Bucky has already seen an advertisement for The Country Cabin, where a man and woman, divorced and widowed respectively, are double-booked in the same country cabin. Of course, they don’t know until they both arrive just ahead of a snowstorm. The divorcee never found his soulmate but has faith that he still has time, despite being over the dreaded age of thirty. The widow, keeping her vow to her late wife, reversed her side of the bond so she could search for another soulmate. They try to keep their distance but there’s that surprise snowstorm and only one bed, which they _do_ share rather than one of them taking the couch and then they feel the soulbond snap into place, which would have happened anyway. _Every_ movie is like this. 

In fact, every media format seems to be cornered by the ‘mysterious’ phenomenon of soulmates, which is not mysterious. Not for at least three decades now, when scientist and world-renowned romance killer, Doctor Anand studied the soulbond formation of two individuals in real-time and found out, it’s really not that complicated. Well, half of it isn’t really complicated. The half that really matters. Biologically, it’s just one body’s cellular response to one another person, almost like an immunological response. Anima mea pheromones, from one individual are absorbed by another individual. If they’re compatible with the protein receptors, _voila_ , you have a soulbond. That ‘zing’ that Bucky felt when he met Brock? That was when there was enough bonding between Brock’s AM pheromones and his own to pass his body’s threshold of detection. If there’s no compatibility, the kidneys clear the foreign pheromones out and you move on. That part...it’s just fucking biology. The extra-empathetic connection you get once you soulbond is the real mystery but _even that_ is reliant on the pheromone compatibility. 

It shouldn’t be a big deal. But you wouldn’t know that if you only went by popular media.

Julia and Brock were the ideal targets for the booming Soulmate match-making industry. Vultures, preying on people who feel left behind by some arbitrary standard of happiness, who prey on the insecurities that people have about committing to someone who’s not their soulmate.

**_Can you really be happy if they’re not your soulmate?_ **

**_Approaching the big 3-0? Chances of finding your Soulmate dramatically decrease after the age of 30. Don’t waste another moment!_ **

The companies’ ads are predatory and their products are not nearly as effective as they say they are. So, when neither Brock nor Julia matched with a soulmate naturally or through one of the matching companies, they decided to take fate into their own hands. They’d married at twenty-eight. Julian was born the next year, followed shortly after by Theo. When Theo was one, Julia had gone back to work as a Marketing Coordinator for a large clean energy company in the area.

And then, Julia had gone on a business trip.

“She ran into a soulmate,” Brock says with a shrug. 

Bucky likes Julia a lot. But Brock, in Bucky’s opinion, is exceedingly kind about the situation. More kind than Bucky thinks he would have been in the same situation. But then, Bucky has more of a cynical outlook on soulbonds and soulmates in general. Even meeting his own soulmate and experiencing a soulbond hasn’t helped as much as he thought it would. It’s an intense feeling of belonging and attraction and satisfaction and there’s no fighting the bond when it’s forming. But after, when you level out and your body feels more under your own control again, you do have a choice.

“What do you think she should have done? They’re soulmates,” Brock says as if Bucky had missed that part of the story.

“She could have had a reversal. You two could have petitioned for blockers,” he says. They could have. As a married hetero couple with children, they could have easily bypassed all the hoops that a lot of people have to go through. 

“If I’d gone on blockers, then I would have never bonded with you, darling,” he says. 

Bucky just _barely_ refrains from rolling his eyes. Okay yeah, Bucky _is_ happy he met Brock. But that’s not going to stop him from being mad on his behalf, even if it doesn’t quite make sense. It’s what soulmates are supposed to do. No, it’s what _partners_ are supposed to do for each other, bond or not.

And biology isn’t an excuse for hurting people.

* * *

2014

Natasha is the picture of calm; the exact opposite of how Steve feels right now and his agitation grows greater and greater with every sway of the thumb drive hanging between them. She continues to ignore his question and shifts gears, expertly weaving them through traffic. For the next hour, she takes them up and down roads, in and out of side streets and residential areas, on highways and off until she seems satisfied they don’t have a tail. At last, she finds parking on the street in front of a group of shops. 

“Lost yet?” she asks with a smirk. It’s the first thing she’s said to him since he got into the car. He’s tired and hungry and sore and he’s resolutely _not_ in the mood for her to just blow him off. 

“Never. I don’t get lost, Natasha. You know that.”

“Okay, that’s true. But do you know where we are?” 

He looks around, annoyed. “Do you want me to give you your turn by turn directions or will coordinates do?” 

“Wow, so sassy today,” she says as he unfolds himself from the truck. He takes a moment to stretch his back before he falls into step beside her. “First time betraying your government?”

“Nat,” he snaps at her. 

“I know, I know. You’ve got a GPS practically in your brain.”

“Nat,” he says again. “How did you get the thumb drive?”

“How did you get the thumb drive, Steve?” she shoots back. Oh, she _is_ angry. At him, it would seem. “Wait, don’t answer that here. We’ll discuss this when we’re back in the truck.”

 _Oh no_. He looks back at the truck with anguish. He doesn’t think that he can fold himself back into that thing. He doesn’t deserve to suffer like that. He’s about to tell her so when she makes a sharp left into a shop. 

“Where are we?”

“Well, Mr. GPS, this is a cat cafe,” Nat says nonchalantly like it’s the most obvious thing. 

Steve looks around the space. Sees the cats. Sees the menu board. Guess it is kinda obvious. “Huh.” 

“We can use their wifi.” She leads him further into the cafe. He keeps his eyes down at his feet, staying alert and making sure that he doesn’t cause an incident by carelessly crushing a cat. And it’s a good thing too, as cats move into his path and push themselves against his legs. He may be framed for treason, but he’s not an animal abuser.

He startles when Nat links her arm through, pulling him close to her side. They stand in silence, waiting to order their food. She looks up at him casually and frowns before reaching up and pulling his hood down a little further. “I can’t believe,” she starts muttering under her breath, “that you chose a camo hoodie. The most recognizable soldier on the planet and you’re wearing camo.”

“Sorry,” he whispers back. It’s not like he had many choices. 

She huffs, digs into her oversized purse, and pulls out a pair of glasses that she promptly places on his face. She plasters on a sickly sweet smile and says, “There, now you’ll be able to read the board.” 

“Thanks, honey,” he says back to her. There’s a light bump at his leg. “You know,” he bends down to lift the little cat to him, an adorable grey piece of fluff, and cradles it close to his chest, “I used to feed stray cats out in the alley. My ma would get so mad if it wasn’t just fatty scraps. She said that I couldn’t afford to share my food with them when I was already skin and bone. Unless I wanted to feed them my corpse.”

“Harsh, yet true. I actually had you marked as more of a dog guy.”

 _Oh._ Steve wants a dog so much. Sam and Riley have both encouraged him over the last year to get one but he’s been afraid of the commitment. His life has been all over the place, with the Avengers and then SHIELD. And now with what just happened with SHIELD, he’s glad he didn’t. How could he ever go on the run and leave behind his dog? 

“ _What is that face?”_ she asks, alarmed. “Your face looks ridiculous right now, Steve.”

“I love dogs.”

“Of course you do,” she says with a shake of her head before moving to the counter to place her order.

They take their food to some oversized chairs in the corner of the cafe and settle in. Steve unzips his hoodie and lets the cat curl up on his chest. Meanwhile, Nat pulls a heavily stickered laptop out of her purse. 

“Eat first,” she commands. 

He unwraps his sandwich and neatly spreads the paper wrapping on his lap. “Have you called Sam?” he asks. “Or Riley?”

“No, I need to get one of my encrypted phones. I don’t trust the one I have at the moment. Not after,” she waves her hand in the air. After Fury was murdered in Steve’s apartment. After Steve hid the thumb drive. After Steve had to fight his way out the Triskelion. There’s a lot of ‘afters’ to be considered. “And Sam is dealing with our other issue at the moment, which actually puts us at an interesting crossroads, don’t you think?”

“Right, that might actually be helpful,” he says, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Wow, this is really good. Either way, that problem will have to wait with Sam until we resolve our current problem.”

They finish their sandwiches and he gives up his pickle as a peace offering after he catches Nat gazing mournfully at it. She smiles at him and he sinks into his seat. What a day. He could really use a safe place and some sleep. 

Nat clears her throat. “Let’s get this over with.” 

She opens the laptop and pulls the thumb drive from her pocket. “Once we connect the thumb drive, it’s going to notify SHIELD that it’s been accessed. That’ll happen fast. After that, it’s going to start trying to give our location up. But, with any luck, Stark’s programming will be able to counter their programming and give us a little more time before STRIKE knows what direction to head in.”

Steve sits up and leans forward so he can see the screen. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with here.”

Nat inserts the thumb drive and starts opening files. As fast as she can get them opened, he watches them close only moments after. “What’s happening?”

“There’s a program that’s reversing all of my commands.”

“Has SHIELD found us?”

“They...have a general direction to go in. But not our exact location yet. I’m going to see if we can find out where exactly the interference is coming from.” Steve watches as she launches another program with a map of the eastern United States displayed. The target on the map moves around until finally landing on a familiar location.

“Time’s up. They’ve got our location.” She pulls out the USB, throws it into her purse, and slides the laptop under her chair. “Guess we all have to go home someday.”

“Guess so,” he tells her. Steve Rogers may have been born in Brooklyn, but Captain America was born at Camp Lehigh when he’d thrown himself on that grenade. And Camp Lehigh is where that interference is coming from.

They throw their garbage away and Steve makes a start to the door.

“Not that way,” Nat says. “We’re switching rides.”

He sends a _thank you_ out into the universe for not making him ride in that truck again before turning and following Nat towards the back of the cafe. 

“Steve, the cat.” He forgot all about the cat, still fast asleep against his chest. He gives her one more pet and a kiss on the top of her head before glancing at her nametag and placing her gently on the floor. 

“Bye, Alpine,” he tells her and then follows Natasha out the door. 

* * *

1943

“Captain Rogers!” a reporter yells from the back, “Are you bonded? All the guys and gals back in the States want to know if they’ve got a chance with you.”

Steve takes a moment to compose himself. Just a moment though. He’s ready for this.

“Fortunately for all those guys and gals out there, they’ve still got a chance out there with someone who can sing and dance better than we all know I’m capable of.”

A hush falls over the press group.

“Is that a yes?” comes a disbelieving voice.

“That is a yes,” Peggy says from beside him. She slides her hand into his and the room explodes into chaos. 

* * *

2013

“On your left,” Steve says, dropping into his seat. 

“A year later and that never gets old,” Sam says, sarcastically from next to him. “You’re late, by the way.”

“Yes, I’m sure SHIELD is not getting their money’s worth out of me.” 

“I’d like you to know that as a tax-payer…”

“Fuck off, Wilson,” he laughs, flicking Sam in the shoulder. “Are we still on for tonight?”

“Riley will literally murder me if you don’t walk through that door with me.”

“That’s because Riley loves me most,” he teases, causing Sam to choke out a laugh. Riley, in fact, does not love Steve most. But it is _so_ fun to tease Sam. Like the Wilsons are not the most disgustingly in love soulmates that Steve has ever met. Steve had never been bothered by his single status, but something about watching the Wilsons just exist with one another makes Steve long in a way he never had before. They’re sincere, funny, competent, and kind and Steve needed that more than he realized when he first moved to D.C. He’d been immediately drawn to them, both as a couple and as individuals. 

He’d felt adrift in New York. He had thought being there would bring him a sense of comfort while he adjusted to living in the future. Instead, exhaustion set in from the near-constant stress he felt from trying to keep his two timelines from converging. His past overlaying the future, shocking his system into a panic. It didn’t take long after fighting the Chitauri for him to realize that if he didn’t get out of New York, his mental health would continue to decline. He needed something new and he needed to create a sense of normalcy. He couldn’t rely on sitting around Avengers Tower for a purpose and he missed the stability of working with a team dedicated to working towards a goal. He missed Peg and the Howlies. Peggy and Howard’s SHIELD felt like the obvious choice. 

And then he’d met Sam and Riley, trolling them with an ‘on your left’ every time he lapped them. They took it in stride and then insulted him back when the opportunity arose. He exchanged numbers with them and started coming over for dinner. They became his best friends, with a slightly unique dynamic. It's just that sometimes, one of the three of them gets _that_ itch that sends them all into bed together. Today, it’s Riley. Steve’s happy to oblige. He loves Riley and Sam. He loved them before he slept with them. He loves them when he gets invited into their bedroom. And he’ll love them whenever this part of their relationship ends.

The briefing is short. He’d love it if SHIELD could utilize their email a little more than having in-person meetings. But, no one seems inclined to take the advice of a man born in 1918 in regards to technology. _Whatever._ Either way, the short briefing allows him to get home early and get ready for the evening. He washes up, packs his overnight bag, and heads over to their place in time for dinner. 

“What are you in the mood for tonight?” Steve asks later, moving into Riley’s space, slotting his thigh between Riley’s legs. A light blush colors the bridge of his nose and the tips of his ears. The three of them stand at the foot of their bed. Riley leans back against Sam, who’s leaning back against their bed and kissing at his neck. They’ve actually already discussed what they each want out of tonight over dinner. It’s one of their rules, to have clear expectations set before dicks get involved, but Riley and Sam like hearing Steve talk dirty. They like Steve to tell them what’s going to happen and what he’s going to do to them. At least tonight that’s what they want.

“I think I know what you want,” he whispers into Riley’s ear, just a breath away from where Sam’s lips are sucking light bruises. And Steve can never quite help himself when they’re like this and he dives forward to lick into Sam’s mouth. He snakes one arm forward and runs his hand down the front of Sam’s pants while his other hand finds its way past Riley’s lips. He grinds his own hard cock against Riley’s thigh and feels hands, one of Riley’s and one of Sam’s under his shirt. He finally breaks the kiss with Sam with one last lick and then goes back to Riley’s ear.

“God, your mouth is so good at sucking my fingers, aren't they honey?” he asks, making Riley moan. “I bet they’ll feel so good around my cock later while you ride Sam’s dick. But you know what I’m going to do first?” Sam’s mouth is back near Riley’s ear again and Steve grabs the back of his neck and kisses into his mouth filthily again. Riley moans more around Steve’s fingers as Sam tweaks one of his nipples with the hand that isn’t on Steve. 

This time Sam breaks the kiss, “What are you going to do first?”

“I’m going to get in between your legs and I’m going to swallow your cock down. And then I’m going to open you up with my tongue.”

“Yeah, I want that,” Sam says. “Open me nice and good.”

“I’m going to make you so ready for me. And while I’m getting you ready you're going to get Riley nice and open for you.” He can feel Riley drooling around his fingers. This is what Riley really likes when Steve’s here. He likes to feel like he’s an accessory for Steve and Sam to use. And the nice thing about Steve’s serum enhanced refractory period is that he can do _a lot_ for his lovers. “Are you ready for that Riley?”

He pulls his fingers free from Riley’s mouth and waits for confirmation. It’s another one of their rules, frequent check-ins. It’s only fun if they _all_ have fun. 

“I’m ready,” Riley says breathlessly. 

They lose their clothes rapidly after that. Sam undresses Riley while Steve undresses Sam slowly. He can take his time with Sam because he won’t be fucking him until he’s come in Riley’s mouth at least once. Just guessing by exactly _how_ keyed up they all are, he might be able to come twice before he fucks Sam. 

Sam has Riley naked and on all fours on the bed before Steve has even started unbuttoning Sam’s pants. He pops the top button of Sam’s pants just as Sam slides a finger into Riley. They both moan, Riley at his husband’s finger breaching him and Sam at the relief his cock must feel at the loosening of his pants. 

“Look how pretty he looks there,” Steve says to Sam before bringing him into another searing kiss. Steve reaches out and follows Sam’s arm down to his hand and Riley’s ass. Sam’s got lube to spare on his hand so Steve rubs his pointer finger against Sam’s palm until it's slick. Riley moans when Steve’s finger joins Sam’s. He drags the zipper of Sam’s pants down and grabs hold of Sam’s cock through his underwear. 

“God, you’re killing me, Steve,” Sam says breathlessly. 

“You like it,” he smiles, letting go of Sam’s cock and pulling his finger from Riley. Dropping to his knees in one smooth motion, Steve pulls Sam’s pants and underwear down with him. He runs his hands up and down Sam’s thighs before grabbing him at the hips and pulling him close so he can lick at Sam’s cock. Then he pulls away and taps at Sam’s ass. “Now get up there with your husband.” 

Steve is right about coming twice before he even gets to fucking Sam. They move to the chair they affectionately nicknamed the threesome chair. It’s perfect for the kind of fun they’re having tonight. Sam is sitting at the bottom, letting Riley do the work of fucking himself down onto his husband. It’s a good break since Sam will be taking all of Riley’s weight soon enough. Steve’s already come once in Riley’s mouth, which Riley turned and shared with Sam in a filthy kiss. God, there’s nothing like watching those two kiss and seeing his come on their lips. 

Steve was still hard and both Sam and Riley looked like they had a little left in them for Steve to come again. So he’d pulled Riley’s mouth back down onto his cock and went to work again. “You’re so good, darling. Look at that mouth. We’re so lucky to be able to fuck that mouth aren’t we, Sam?”

Sam looks up from where he’s pulling Riley down onto his cock. “So lucky. I love fucking his mouth as much as I love fucking his ass.”

That’s enough to send Steve over the edge again. Hearing Sam talk dirty will never _not_ send Steve to near orgasm. Once he finishes coming he drops to his knees for one of his favorite parts about the threesome chair setup. Sam pulls Riley so his back is nearly flush with Sam’s chest. Steve takes the weight of Sam and Riley’s legs on his shoulders as he licks at Sam’s hole. He really does love this, but he also wants to make sure Sam’s still loose and ready for him. He pushes two lubed fingers into Sam while he licks a path up and over his balls and then up his shaft to where his cock disappears into Riley. He sucks at that spot where the two of them are joined.

“Steve,” Sam moans out. “Steve, now. Fuck me now.”

He sounds desperate, on the edge of orgasm, just where Steve wants him. Steve gets up and leans over them and pushes their knees back. He rubs and teases Sam’s hole with his cockhead while he slicks himself up. 

“Fucking tease, get in there,” Sam demands.

Steve shuts him up with one long push of his cock. Sam moans and Riley turns his head to capture a kiss while rocking his own hips. Steve pulls back before snapping his hip again, fucking faster and harder. Sam grabs hold of Riley’s cock and starts jerking him off without breaking their kiss. Riley comes first, breaking away from Sam’s lips and curling inward. 

A moment later, he relaxes onto Sam and leans back. “Come on baby. Give it to me,” he whispers. 

Sam looks over to him, straining and beautiful and so close, “make me come. Fill me up with your come, Steve. I want it.” That’s all it takes to send them both over the edge. Sam's body tightens around Steve’s cock and they’re both coming.

A moment passes and Steve lets himself gently fall back onto the floor as Sam and Riley kiss and dissolve into a round of giggles. Ah, after-sex endorphins. They shift up in the chair, both making their signature eww face at the mess. 

“You staying the night?” Riley asks.

“If you don’t mind,” Steve answers. He could make it back home, but Riley makes a mean breakfast the morning after that he wants to take advantage of.

“We never mind. Your room and bathroom are all ready for you,” Riley says with a laugh. That’s another rule. Sex between the three of them may happen in the bedroom, but the intimacies of after sex and sleeping aren’t part of that. 

_That_ one is Steve’s rule. It grounds him. He doesn’t want anything to ruin his relationship with Sam and Riley and it’s a good reminder that here, he’s the accessory. 


	3. Chapter 3

**2014**

“You’ve already signed the Dissolution of Soulbond paperwork and it’s been notarized and approved by the judge. Just one last initial from you and my signature.”

“Perfect,” he says, initialing next to the colorful flag. 

“I’m legally bound to read these parts. Please answer verbally, alright?” Doctor Allen says with a twist of her mouth. 

Soulbond purists, groups who don’t believe that soulbonds should ever be broken, have made this process more and more difficult for people seeking dissolutions. Instead of a fairly simple medical procedure, there are now multitudes of steps that have to be taken, some repeatedly, to have the procedure done. They throw around unsubstantiated medical claims like a broken soulbond hurts the children that were conceived from that bond. As if there are no kids out there conceived outside of bonds. 

“The procedure you are about to undertake will dissolve the soulbond between you and your soulmate. Do you consent?”

“I do.” 

* * *

**2004**

“I’m leaving!” Bucky’s dad screams from upstairs. 

Again. 

“Fine. But don’t think that you can just leave and not hold up your obligations here,” Mom screams back.

Bucky leans back in his bed, closes his eyes, and waits for it to be over. Like always. They’ll scream at each other in their bedroom, where Dad is packing his suitcase. He’s witnessed it happen in real-time before and he can imagine his dad pulling his shirts from where they hang in the closet, leaving the metal hangers swaying and bent from the abuse. He’ll shove the shirts into the family suitcase, an old, red, battered Samsonite with a tricky zipper. Then he’ll empty the drawer of his pants, socks, and underwear. He’ll slam through the bathroom cupboards and drawers for his razor, deodorant, and toothbrush. His mom will follow him, watching his every move to make sure not one thing that isn’t solely his goes into the suitcase. And through it all, they’ll never stop yelling. 

The two of them will come down the stairs. Dad won’t take anything from the sparse living room. It’s only about ten steps to the door and then he’ll be out the door. Mom will stay in the doorway watching him leave. She’ll sit in the living room and cry and….

_The living room._

He opens his eyes, groans, and jumps up off his bed. He cracks his door, just in case. With the coast clear, he bolts the five steps to the living room and peaks through the doorway. Mom and Dad continue their screaming upstairs while Nicky and Nicole sit huddled on the couch looking up at the ceiling, the adventures of the little ballerina mouse all but forgotten on the television.

“Hey,” he whispers loudly, getting their attention, “come in my room.”

The twins slide off the couch with their orange slices and juice boxes and run to him. Once they’re all back in the safety of his room, he distracts them until he hears the stomping of his parents down the stairs. The front door opens and slams shut with a final, “Fuck you, Winnie.”

He listens for his mother to retreat to the couch and he looks back over at his worried siblings. “Don’t worry,” he says, “he’ll be back in a few days.”

He always is.

* * *

**2012**

Bucky finds that he likes the ocean. 

He’d never seen it before moving with Brock, though he’d been to Lake Erie once when he was seven. The twins had been two and at the time he thought the trip had been planned by his parents. Looking back on it now, he can see it for what it was. His parents were jobless and they had been living out of their van on and off, depending on what work they could find. They’d been up north looking for seasonal work and parked the van close enough to the water that he remembers going to sleep to the sound of waves lapping at the shore. And he remembers how, in a rare moment of visible affection toward one another, his parents had walked hand in hand along the shore. It’s one of only a handful of times that Bucky can point to where he thought that maybe there was something there between them other than anger and resentment.

It’s something he’s been working on with his therapist, his feelings about his parents, and how they impact how he sees soulmates and soulbonds. Since he left Ohio, he’s lived with the growing fear that he’s going to fuck everything up. That’s not baggage he wants to bring into his relationship with Brock. And he could feel the fear and anxiety moving along their bond. 

Explaining it to Brock hadn’t worked because Brock couldn’t comprehend Bucky’s reasons. Brock, who came from loving and committed bonded parents. Brock, who didn’t fight for his last marriage because ‘she found her soulmate’. Brock is so devoted to the idea of soulmates and order and control that he can’t understand Bucky’s fears. He finds the way Bucky sees soulbonds, as a total loss of control, odd, and if they talk about them, they’ll come true. 

As if they don’t already live within Bucky. 

So, he found a therapist through his company’s wellness program and keeps it a secret. It’s a private matter, Brock had told him, the one time Bucky had suggested therapy. He feels a twinge of guilt at keeping it from Brock but he still goes to his five approved, _and free_ , appointments. After that, he sneaks money from their account by asking for cashback every time he’s at the store and pays out of pocket to keep any paperwork or explanation of benefits from coming to the house. One less thing to ‘rock the boat’. 

Every other week, he walks along the beach, his toes in the surf, and thinks about his session. The beach feels like a bridge or a reconciliation between his present and his past. He thinks about his homework and the daily tasks he sets out to do to show Brock that he trusts him. He thinks about his parents and the possibility that they _did_ have a good soulbond. They just happened to be not great people.

He and Brock become engaged, or more accurately, Bucky comes to the understanding that they are engaged. The realization takes place one evening when Brock is rushing out the door for yet another work emergency. He takes Bucky in his arms and tells him to call Parker and start planning the wedding. 

“Whose wedding?” he asks. 

Brock tilts his head to the side and frowns. “Our wedding,” he says like Bucky is a small child. Or worse, like they’d had this conversation already and Bucky had forgotten it. 

“Just kidding,” he recovers awkwardly before sending Brock off with a kiss. 

After a lot of consideration and going back and forth with his therapist, Bucky sends his parents an invitation to his wedding. A week after he left Ohio with Brock, he called his mom to tell her everything that happened. His hopes for her excitement or at least to have some encouraging words evaporated when she tells him how hurt and disappointed she is that he didn’t come to her. He’s honest and tells her he didn’t know he could. She cries, heaving sobs into the phone. She’s a bad mother, she tells him, to drive her son away across the country without even a goodbye. The guilt becomes too much and he breaks his promise to himself and tries to fix it. He tells her he’s sorry. He's not good at talking and it’s his fault, of course it is. He should have tried to tell her. 

He’s exhausted and numb when he hangs up with her and he doesn’t call her again. But he does send the invitation. One final olive branch. 

Life continues on without Brock ever knowing the work he’s putting into making himself better. Then, two months after Bucky turns twenty, on a warm May afternoon, he marries Brock by the sea. Three days before, a strong storm had swept up the coast and in its wake left behind a dramatic backdrop of unusually large ocean swells breaking violently on the rocks. 

His mom and dad don’t come. Bucky had told himself that they wouldn’t be there, seeing as he never got an RSVP from them. His mind automatically comes up with excuses for them. It’s a long trip, money is always tight for them, and Bucky did practically go no contact. But it still hurts when he looks out at their small gathering and realizes that there’s no one there for him. What he does get is a single card with an enthusiastic ‘CONGRATULATIONS’ across the front of it, signed by the twins, and hand-delivered by Brock’s brother. 

Disappointment in his parents courses through him. They didn’t even sign the card. _That’s what you get_ , he thinks. He’ll show them that he doesn’t need them. He’ll be the best soulmate there is.

It’s during their reception when Bucky senses something wrong. The emotion that comes across their bond is one that he’s unaccustomed to feeling from his new spouse. Fear. By the time Bucky crosses the room, Brock’s best man Jack is at his side, whispering in his ear and looking down at their phones.

“Turn on the TV,” Brock tells one of the passing attendants. She flips the television behind the bar on and once she does, Bucky understands. Shaky footage of Manhattan fills the screen. There’s screaming and running and then the camera focuses in on -

“What are those? Is that Iron Man?” Obviously, it’s Iron Man. Who else could it be? But he’s not fighting alone. 

“Wow! Captain America!” Theo yells from next to him. “Bucky! Do you see him?”

He bends over to pick Theo up and puts him on his hip. “I see him, Theo.” Everyone else is mesmerized by the events happening. Aliens, superheroes, and destruction maybe be fine for adults but this is a lot for little kids. “Do you want to show me your shells again?”

“Sure!” Theo shouts directly into his ear. He and Brock had taken the boys on a short walk along the beach two hours before the service to get some of their energy out. They’d let the boys pick shells from the beach, as long as they made sure nothing was living in them. They’d had plenty of choices. The beach was littered with shells from the storm. 

Not wanting to be outdone by his brother, Julian makes a run toward his own stack of shells. Bucky takes Theo over to their table and studies the pile of shells and rocks. Finally, he has each of them line up their shells from most to least favorite. 

“We gotta go, Brock,” Jack says from a few feet away.

He whips towards his husband. “What? Why would you need to go?”

“Atlas is calling us in,” Brock says quickly, looking at Jack nervously. He _feels_ nervous too. Bucky gets up and moves away from the boys, checking that they’re still preoccupied with their task. 

“Are the aliens going to hack into the infrastructure of one of your client’s companies? I think they’re a little busy,” he hisses at Brock.

“Bucky,” Brock says harshly. Oh, now it’s annoyance coming through. That’s familiar.

“It’s our wedding day, Brock,” he says. “Do they not have coverage?”

He ignores the condescending huff that comes from Jack and stares Brock down. This entire situation is absurd. Yes, there’s a lot of times that Brock has to go out of town for last-minute business. They do a lot of work for government agencies and that puts him all over the country quite a bit. But...it’s their _wedding day_. 

“I wish it were that simple. I’ll make it up to you,” Brock takes his hands in his and raises them to his lips. Gives them a kiss. “I promise.” 

Brock doesn’t wait for an answer. He drops Bucky’s hands and sweeps through the room, saying quick goodbyes, before he and Jack disappear, leaving Bucky alone. Numbly, he walks back over to the boys so he can listen to them walk him through their favorite shells. It’s easy to listen to Julian and Theo. They ramble about where they found their shells and what they think lived in them. Theo ends up parroting a lot of Julian’s sentences, frustrating his brother. Bucky, having had years of experience with the twins, smooths out their disagreements easily all the while trying to ignore the feeling in his gut. That feeling of ‘not right’. He tries not to think about _why_ Brock left. 

When he feels more like himself, he puts his best smile in place and makes his rounds. Brock’s parents are there, but they still haven’t warmed to Bucky in the months he’s been with their son. He tries talking to them, but they mostly ignore him in favor of catching up with Julia. Parker rolls their eyes at them, making Bucky smile for what feels like the first time that day. At least he’s got one person in his corner.

Bucky closes his eyes and concentrates on his soulbond, attempting to pull some comfort, but the bond is dull and muted. 

On the screen, the violence and destruction of New York continues.

* * *

**2014**

It takes them six hours to get to New Jersey. Natasha keeps them on back roads as much as possible, doubling back here and there just to be safe. Steve stays quiet for the first hour, and then his resolve breaks.

“How _did_ you get the thumb drive?” he asks.

She’s silent for a moment, considering her answer. “I was angry,” she finally says. “And, maybe a little hurt.”

“Because he came to me.”

Her mouth twitches in annoyance. “I do everything he asks of me. I owe him and SHIELD my life. Clint may have brought me in, the reckless idiot, but Fury was the one who finally gave me the nod and cleared me to start making amends for my past.”

“And he came to me.”

“And he went to you.”

She’s quiet again but this time he can tell she’s swallowing down the hurt and the betrayal Fury’s decision has wrought. 

“You feel guilty,” he tells her.

“He should have felt safe coming to me.”

“But he came to me and then he died.”

“I don’t blame you,” she says quickly. “But I would have liked the opportunity to have saved him.”

They sit in silence again, the radio playing low in the background.

“He told me not to trust anyone,” he says. “He gave me the thumb drive and told me not to trust anyone. And then Kate was there and we were trying to save him.” 

“Sharon.”

“What?”

“Her name isn’t Kate. It’s Sharon.” 

“Okay. Sure.” He’s not even surprised. Of course, ‘Kate’ was an alias. “When Rumlow and the others came for me, I took Fury’s advice and hid the thumb drive.”

“Good thinking, given the givens,” she says, then sighs. “I watched you slip the thumb drive into the vending machine and grabbed it once you left.” 

“Mystery solved,” he says.

When they make it to Camp Lehigh they pull the car off the main road as far as they can before going the rest of the way on foot. Steve easily pulls the chain link fence apart for them to enter through. 

Steve spots the bunker right away; rules and regulations coming unbidden into his mind. 

“That shouldn’t be there,” he says to Natasha, pointing at the munitions bunker.

At the doors, she bypasses the security panel. “If you’re keeping score,” she tells him, “that panel shouldn’t be here either. Too new.”

Inside the dark bunker, he stops and looks around. Natasha flicks a small flashlight on. The space is nearly empty, but it has obviously, at some point in time, been converted from a munitions bunker to an office space. Old desks have been stacked up along the exterior walls and instead of concrete floors, their steps are muffled by old carpeting. 

“Why?” Natasha asks quietly. 

It’s the same question he’s got. Why? Why go through the trouble to place a building that looks like a munitions bunker into a derelict base, only to convert the guts of it into an office. Unless…

“It was never a munitions bunker,” he says.

“No, I don’t think so either.”

She feels along the wall and he hears the flip of a switch. A few harsh fluorescents flicker to life here and there, illuminating the room just enough for the both of them to see the back of the room where the SHIELD emblem hangs. 

“This is where they started SHIELD,” Nat says.

He walks to the opposite side of the room and there on the wall hangs a framed photograph of Peggy. He touches it, smiling. This is where she’d done it, founded SHIELD. 

“Steve?” Natasha asks. “Would you like to accompany me to the basement?”

“The what?” he asks but as soon as he turns his head, he sees it too. Off in the corner, a set of elevator doors sit. It’s clear that whatever was disrupting Nat’s efforts and battling Tony’s software isn’t up here. He adjusts the shield on his arm. “I’d love to.” 

Natasha looks up at him as she presses the call button. “Okay, let’s see what kind of monster they keep in the basement.”

* * *

**1945**

“Steve?” Peggy’s voice crackles through the receiver in his hand. “It’s only you and me now.”

“You cleared the room?” he laughs. The power that woman has, to order a room full of military men out. 

“I told them that I deserved to have privacy with my soulmate,” she says, her voice breaking. 

“Peggy…” Hurting her is the last thing he would ever want to do. He thinks of her sitting alone in the control room, preparing herself for the worst. Preparing herself for the inevitable. And when it happens, she’ll have to keep going. 

“I know you’re doing what you have to do,” she continues. “I know that you wouldn’t leave us if you had a choice.”

“I wouldn’t. I would do whatever I could.” He would. He’d never want to leave Peggy and his men, his friends. 

“I’ll look for you. If you _can_ get out, get out and Howard and I will come find you. I promise.”

His hands shake and he’s careful not to crush the receiver. “I’m sorry, Peggy.”

“None of that. I love you, Steve. Hoax soulmate or not, you’ve been a wonderful partner.”

“You too,” he whispers. “I’m scared, Peg.”

“I know. I’ll stay with you all the way. I promise.”

Part of him feels like he should hang up the receiver to spare her this, but he doesn’t. Selfish or not, he wants to be connected to someone. He doesn’t want to be alone. 

“Can you talk to me?” he asks. “About anything.”

“Of course, Steve.”

She talks while he pushes down on the yoke. She talks as his hands shake and his body feels and memorizes every drop in altitude. He doesn’t know what she’s saying, she talks the entire way down and he focuses on her voice even as the wind whips at his face and roars in his ears. 

She talks and her voice is the last sound he hears. 

* * *

**2013**

Steve walks the perimeter of the room, taking in all the details while he waits for Peggy to wake from her nap. He makes his usual path from shelf to shelf, looking at pictures and books, seeing if there’s anything new. Peggy’s room at the retirement home is nice, with plenty of space for her and the visitors she gets day to day. The shelves hold pictures of her and her family. Her wife, children, and grandchildren. There are even pictures of his old team spread amongst them. 

“I looked for you,” he hears her say from her bed. He turns to see her awake, her soft brown eyes the same after all these years. He takes her hand, thin and frail now, gently in his own hands. She’s wearing a sad smile, one full of guilt and sadness. 

“I know you did. I never doubted that you would.”

He looks at the framed pictures by the side of her bed. Her and her wife, her _soulmate._

“You would have liked her,” Peggy tells him, following his gaze over to her wife.

“She was your soulmate. Of course I would have liked her.” He would have done anything to make Peggy happy. If she had found her soulmate, he would have found a way to make it work. 

“We lied—said that we’d just fallen in love.” Her gaze falters, lost in old memories. “There were a lot of very unhappy people.”

He read up on Peggy’s life not long ago, once he had found out that she was still living. There were a lot of articles that he had to put aside, especially the ones that criticized Peggy for moving on. As if her life should have ended when his did. 

“I’m planning on making a statement. I hope that’s alright and I’ll let you read it and approve it before, but I want it known how happy that I am you found someone to love.”

“I made peace with this a long time ago, so don’t do it for me, dear.”

“I would be doing it for us. And for your family. They should not have had to live in the shadow of what would have been if Steve Rogers hadn’t died. And I get asked a lot if I’m angry about it. I’d like to set the record straight.”

Peggy smiles at him. “Forever taking on the bullies.”

“Even if I’m decades late.”

“My darling,” she squeezes his hand, “perhaps you’re not too late. Perhaps this is exactly where you’re meant to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting closer to Steve and Bucky meeting...I promise. Thank you so much to all of you who have been sticking in there while they're making their way toward one another. I know how hard it is to wait and I appreciate you all so much.


End file.
